Learning to Breathe
by Hallucifer
Summary: Inexplicably finding themselves out of the cage and back on earth, Sam and Lucifer try to work out where they go from here. Lucifer is forced to face up to the reasons behind his hatred for humans and some rather human flaws closer to home then he'd like to admit. Fortunately, Sam is there to help. And maybe Dean, too. Post-season 5, alternative canon.
1. Chapter 1

It was raining.

Sam noticed the noise first, the persistent patter of raindrops. He assumed they were hitting the roof of whatever motel they were in, only something wet was striking his face. Was he outside? What was he doing outside?

Wait.

Sam opened his eyes.

A canopy of trees stretched above him, rain pelting down from the dark clouds further above, hovering gloomily in the night sky. The trees lashed in the wind, leaves looking almost black in the gloom. He fumbled to push himself up right, hands slipping on the wet grass. He snapped his head forward, gazing around the area for signs of anything familiar. He was in a forest somewhere, or at least a cluster of trees. Somewhere in the distance there were sounds of a nearby road, the odd car passing in the late hour, barely distinguishable amongst the patter of the rain. Sam twisted his head over his shoulder, searching for any clue as to his location, almost in his haste missing the other figure lying a few feet behind him.

Lucifer looked like Nick again. The rain was running down his face, flattening the short strands of blond hair to his forehead. He was lying on his side, one arm outstretched across the wet ground toward Sam. The green fabric of his shirt was stained dark with the rain, sticking to the slight curve of his waist.

"Lucifer," Sam said, crawling clumsily across on his knees to the archangel. He hesitated only slightly before reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Sam's fingertips only made the slightest contact before Lucifer started awake, throwing himself upright, the slightest flash of white light in his eyes, before his gaze fixed on Sam.

Sam slowly withdrew his hand, fingers curling closed, as if hanging onto the memory of that slight moment of contact. He'd felt him. This was real. They were both really here.

"Where are we?" Lucifer snapped, studying Sam's face as if searching for some sign of deception.

Home, Sam nearly said. "Earth," he replied instead. "We're back on earth."

For a moment, Lucifer's eyes narrowed, before he slowly turned his gaze up toward the dark sky above them. A spark of lighting flashed, illuminating the swaying leaves briefly, before the dull roll of thunder filled the air.

A shiver ran up Sam's back. His shirt was stuck to his skin, the rain even running down inside the back of his jacket. "We… we should get inside."

Climbing to his feet, for a moment Sam marvelled at the feel of the wind on his skin, the shift of the breeze. There had been no wind in hell. The air was still, heavy, dead. It may have been wet and cold now, but at least the world around them seemed to breathe, shifing with life and possibility. It felt endless, looking out amongst the trees, after so long between those four bleak walls.

Sam started walking, heading toward the distant sound of the traffic, and hopefully civilisation. If they could just find someone to tell them where they were…

Stopping, Sam looked back over his shoulder.

Lucifer's face betrayed nothing of what he was thinking. Sam felt suddenly stupid and naïve. Too long alone together had made his thoughts far too simple. What was he doing? He couldn't just go strolling into the nearest town with the devil in tow? Could he?

Hell had been so simple, hadn't it? For a moment, Sam's thoughts slipped into memories he had been pushing back since regaining consciousness. He tried to push back the licking tendrils of fire, the rattle of chains whispering nearby as they threatened to ensnare him. Don't think about that. It's gone now. You're safe. Really safe. He'd got out…. They'd got out.

Both of them.

And despite whatever fantasies loitered in the most secret regions of his mind, this had never been the plan. This could never have been part of any real, feasible plan. But here they were. He was back in the living world, and regardless of whether it was impractical, detrimental, or possibly down right apocalyptic, Lucifer was here beside him.

"Sam…"

Snapping out of his trance, his eyes shifted to meet Lucifer's. He looked displeased.

"Sam, I'm not in the mood to kick start the end of the world. Let's just get out of the rain first."

Sam felt a blush creeping onto his face, shifting his hair slightly in hopes of slightly disguising his embarrassment. Despite himself- despite telling himself he was only following natural instincts of protecting possibly the entire human race- he felt stupid, cruel even, to have been so blatantly stood there judging Lucifer's intentions right in front of him. If Lucifer wanted to go and inflict whatever disaster upon the earth, it wasn't like he would be able to stop him anyway. Now was not the time to be trying to cling to some moral high ground.

He pursed his lips together to fight the instinct to apologise. "…Let's find somewhere out of the rain."

* * *

It was still raining. Despite the downpour, Sam seemed reluctant to head in the direction of the sounds of traffic and civilisation. Now, Sam Winchester wasn't stupid, he was more than capable of navigating them to somewhere more practical, but Lucifer could see the internal conflict practically dancing across the young man's features.

Lucifer was used to this. More times than he cared to count, he had stood while someone- or multiple people- took it upon themselves to make outlandish assumptions and accusations of what he intended to do. Some of the grand schemes these such people imagined were even admirable in their creativity. Sometimes he almost felt boring in comparison to the fantasized and over-exaggerated version of himself others imagined.

Really, it wasn't all killing and destruction. Those things were trivial, really. Lucifer did what it took to get a job done but mindless violence was far from his intentions.

Besides, it wasn't his fault humans died so easy.

Frowning, he flexed his fingers, staring down at his hands. It was strange being back in a vessel. He hadn't missed it. The restrictiveness, the discomfort, the slow, inefficient fumbling movements. Such flawed creatures; he didn't know how they stood being like this all the time.

Sam stopped walking ahead of him and Lucifer looked up.

Shifting from one foot to the other, Sam seemed to be contemplating something. He pushed his wet hair back behind his ear, glancing back at Lucifer, then ahead again. It was then Lucifer noticed what looked like the edge of a road through the trees, and across the tarmac, the outline of a small building, likely a gas station.

"Do you mind…" Sam started, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I mean, would you mind if I just grabbed some food quickly?"

"Fine."

Sam shot him an awkward half-smile, digging in the pockets of his jeans. He pulled out a few loose coins, counting them meticulously. Lucifer supposed that small money was all he had. It wasn't like he had brought his wallet to the apocalypse.

Sam took a step forward, before pausing and glancing over at him again. Lucifer resisted the urge to sigh. "Don't worry, Sammy. I'll wait right here. You don't have to tie me up outside."

Sam's expression danced awkwardly from embarrassed to flustered to frowning, but he failed to come up with any response, instead turning hastily and hurrying across the road.

Lucifer watched him as the glass-panelled door of the small store closed behind him, though he could still see his head and shoulders through the front windows. The place appeared empty aside from Sam and the one teenage cashier wearing a tacky blue cap over her blonde hair. Sam was shuffling about by a display, seeming a little shifty and deep in thought. Sam's anxiety over this situation was practically radiating off of him. He could almost hear his heart thudding.

No, wait, that was his vessel, wasn't it? There was that horrible sense of strain creeping up on him again. He hated this feeling, hated the weakness, the way his legs ached already. Pathetic, weak human vessel. He flexed his grace a little, pushing energy into every inch of the body, though his skin tingled uncomfortably. The rain hitting his skin between the leaves of the trees almost hissed when it touched him. He couldn't do this too often or this vessel wouldn't last a month, but the alternative was detestable.

Watching Sam make polite conversation with the cashier, Lucifer pondered this unexpected situation.

There was only one being in all of creation which he knew to have the power to move anyone out of- on into- the cage. The warding entwined into the walls was powerful, it had had to be to keep an archangel contained. And there was very little that was more powerful than him. The list was short enough to narrow it down rather quickly… the question was why. What was this? What game had his Father decided to play now?

The wind picked up, the tress lashing back and forth. Lucifer looked up, the rain running down his face. "What…" he said softly. "What do you want of me?"

There was no answer but the patter of the rain. Lucifer almost smiled. Some things never changed.

The soft thud of a door closing was followed by shuffling footsteps across the wet tarmac and Sam paused to check the road was clear before crossing back over to him.

"Hey… thank you… err…" Sam cleared his through awkwardly, busying himself with tucking his hair behind his ears and fumbling with the purchased items in his hands. "Are we… we should go…"

"Where are we going?"

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it again. He didn't know.

"There's a motel about twenty minutes walk from here," Lucifer supplied.

"Right," Sam said, not moving.

Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "Sam," he said tersely. Silence hung heavy in the air for a few long moments, before Lucifer's frown deepened and he turned away. "I don't need your patronisation," he snapped. "If you can do nothing but judge me on things you assume I am about to do, then I'll go elsewhere."

"No," Sam blurted before he could stop himself. His hand tightened on the bottle of water he had brought, the plastic denting. "Lucifer, wait, I…" He paused, contemplating his words. Eventually he awkwardly cleared his throat and continued. "I don't want you to go."

"You don't need to babysit me, Sam," Lucifer muttered, voice low. "I'm not your charge. I'll do as I please."

"…I know." Sam took a hesitant step forward. "Look, I can't stop you… no matter what you wanted to do. I'm asking you to… to stay with me. Because… I want you to."

The genuine tone in Sam's voice eases the tension that had been building within him. The conflict hanging in the air seemed to disperse. Lucifer let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and turned back to face the other.

The smile on Sam's face was nervous and perhaps a little forced. Nonetheless, he shifted the item he was holding under one arm, the other hand reaching out. Lucifer took it, just their fingers curling briefly around each other's like that first night when Lucifer had appeared to him as Jess. In the cage, when the horrors and torture had become almost too much- for either of them- this small motion had grounded him, given him- both of them- something to hold onto.

The rain was finally starting to ease off.

"Lets get to that motel," Sam said, eventually loosening his grip and letting his arm fall to his side.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they had reached the motel, checked in, and got to the room, the sun had been coming up.

Regardless, Lucifer had waved off Sam's awkward queries over whether he minded him sleeping for a little while, and perched himself at the small table by the window whilst Sam had settled down on the bed by the back wall.

There was another bed, of course, to keep things simple when they had checked in. Lucifer understood, though Sam had given a hasty, apologetic explanation as they had walked down the corridor. "You know, I know you don't… sleep or anything- but, well, I just thought-"

"It's fine, Sam." He'd paused. "And angels can sleep actually."

"Oh… really? Actually I think Castiel has been unconscious a couple of times…"

"It can happen. We just don't require the same routine circadian rhythm as you. But like every other creature in existence sleep can serve a purpose."

"So can you feel tired?"

"…Sometimes."

Leaning his elbows on the small, round table top in front of him, Lucifer turned his head from the window to study Sam.

He had his back to him, his tall form seeming smaller hunched under the thin motel covers. There was the slightest rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed evenly in his sleep. Despite the still edgy nervousness in his posture and the obvious multiple worries nagging at him, Sam had not taken too long to drift off, the exhaustion evidently having caught up with him, his recently restored body eager to recuperate.

Lucifer could feel the tingle of grace as a persistent itch under his skin. It was like walking around holding a cup filled to the brim, too much and it would spill, or rather burn though this fragile flesh. He turned his palms upwards, studying the skin of his hands and arms. Already the flesh seemed pale, blotchy as the natural organisms fought with the unfamiliar celestial energy occupying it. The whole vessel process was rather complicated. It involved stuffing something with too many dimensions into something with not enough and hoping the weaker substance could somehow contain the stronger within. It was doable, as long as the angelic presence was kept contained to an extent, only used mainly through waves of power that left the body, such as smiting, or healing, or other such angelic tricks. It could sit placidly within the vessel otherwise, not much different from a soul. However… human bodies were so weak. Lucifer remembered his first time in a vessel… Abel… the sudden heaviness, the weakness, the mass of uncomfortable sensations and restrictions. It had taken him a while to solve the plethora of issues, defects that made up these humans. His grace was a superior energy source, allowing him to get around these flaws, but it burned through vessel faster. The voltage on the battery was too high for the equipment, so to speak.

Sighing, Lucifer let his grace drift back to a more even, more natural level. This was necessary, to sustain this form, though the weak state of the human body running on it's own designs was something he detested. But whilst Sam slept, he would take this respite.

As his grace withdrew an uncomfortable tightness in his chest became evident. Hands clenching into fists on the table top, Lucifer closed his eyes briefly, hoping it would ease off. It wasn't _always_ like this. He didn't understand these damn humans. Their bodies just seemed to give up on them out of nowhere, dull pains and aches and strains. Sometimes, he couldn't even breathe.

The sun was slowly creeping over the horizon outside, a warm glow filtering through the flimsy curtains. Twisting the chair round, Lucifer straddled the seat, resting his arms on the wooden back as he sat and watched Sam as the sunlight crept over him. The slowly increasing light didn't stir him, though he occasionally shifted and twitched in his sleep, shoulders hunched inside his grey t-shirt. Lucifer tilted his head to the side slightly, studying the way the light highlighted the paler strands of Sam's hair.

It looked better like this than in the light of hell fire.

He'd caught Sam in those odd moments, gazing around in wonder, touching things, poking and prodding himself. He knew why. He was checking it was real. Honestly, Lucifer couldn't quite believe it either. They had got out. No more hell fire, no more darkness, no more chains and hooks and torture. No more cage.

He knew Sam was worried- scared, even- about what would happen next. About where they went from here. And truthfully, Lucifer didn't know either. Did he have a burning desire to restart an apocalypse? Not really. He had been telling the truth; mindless destruction was not in his nature. When Lucifer did something, it had a purpose. Everything before… he had a _point_ to prove. There was a niggling frustration in the back of mind that he had not succeeded in getting that point across. Well, at least not fully. Sam didn't talk about it. _They_ didn't talk about it, but Lucifer didn't think it was entirely incorrect of him to say that Sam had understood what Lucifer had been trying to show him. And that was something. That was… enough for now.

For now, sitting here in some motel in the middle of nowhere, watching the light grace Sam Winchester's sleeping form. This was enough for now.

Coughing into the back of his hand, Lucifer shifted to a more comfortable position and settled to watching the way Sam's shoulders rose and fell.

* * *

He'd slept longer than he'd meant to. Blinking back into consciousness, it took Sam's mind a few moments to catch up before, he remembered where he was- and who with. Hastily rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he threw himself upright, pushing back his hair when it flopped in front of his face. He twisted to see both ends of the room, almost in his clumsy haste missing the fact that Lucifer was indeed sitting by the window, present as promised.

"Don't worry, Sammy, I haven't done a runner out the bathroom window."

Sam let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

Pushing the covers back, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Glancing down at the small analogue clock on the bedside table, he was embarrassed to see it was almost midday.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sleep that long."

Lucifer shrugged, arms draped loosely around the back of the chair. "You're human," he said simply, "you require sleep. I've been around a long time, Sam, a few hours is hardly a wait."

A tentative smile touched Sam's lips, though he wasn't quite sure whether Lucifer was joking or making fun of him.

"I just need to shower," Sam said, speaking mostly for the sake of filling the silence. "And then we'll…." He trailed off awkwardly.

"Get… _breakfast_ or whatever it is you humans do," Lucifer supplied.

Sam felt oddly like Lucifer was humouring him, catering to the idle needs of a being far below him. It must have seemed tedious, silly things like sleeping and eating. Sam wondered briefly what angels did all day.

"Okay," he said eventually. "I'll err…" he gestured briefly towards the bathroom, grabbing his overshirt and jeans- the only clothes he had- and hurrying behind the sanctuary of the bathroom door.

* * *

Lucifer had been thankfully well-behaved as Sam, now washed and dressed, had led the way to the small dinner next door to the motel. It wasn't the worst he'd been in by any means, relatively clean and a fair selection of food. He felt stupidly relieved. Exposing Lucifer to the dregs of humanity seemed somehow embarrassing and dangerous. What if some downtrodden event reignited Lucifer's burning hatred of the human race? He was being stupid, wasn't he? Exposure to a greasy diner wasn't going to start the apocalypse.

And it wasn't that, not really. Somewhere deep within him, he had this underlying desire. It was silly and naïve and probably totally impossible. But something within him wished he could _change Lucifer's mind_. The thought had occurred to him before, in his darkest, deepest and most whimsical of fantasies. He had stupid visions of taking Lucifer to protests, to nature events, to concerts and museums and festivals. Of this sudden, impossible fantasy that Lucifer would see something that would alter his view on the human race. And then…

Sam didn't dare think further than that. There were something things he refused to acknowledge, some thoughts that were best left as fleeting fantasies, never daring to be considered a real possibility.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Sam lowered his menu, peering over the top at the figure sat opposite him.

At first glance, Lucifer appeared simply bored, perched in the booth opposite him with his elbows carelessly on the table top, one hand holding up his chin. However, Sam noted him watching the few other occupants of the diner, blue eyes trailing after those who passed with a sense of almost curiosity. Sam wondered what he thought. Did he detest these people? Did he find them disgusting? Simple? Fascinating?

A mark of red caught his eye and Sam turned his gaze downward, blinking blankly for a moment at Lucifer's forearm, visible where his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. "Already?" he blurted before he could stop himself.

Lucifer's gaze shifted to him, giving him a questioning look, before he saw where Sam was staring. He held his arm out in front of him, a frown creasing his face as he noted the blemish on his skin.

"I don't get it," Sam said softly. "How come you wear through vessels so quickly?"

"I told you before, Sam. Finding a vessel to contain me is difficult."

"Is it really that hard though?" Sam pressed, genuine curiosity marring his voice. "I mean, I've never seen another angel start to-" He broke off, noting Lucifer's narrowed eyes.

"Do you _know_ what it takes to keep these hopeless sacks of meat _habitable?_ " Lucifer snapped. "Maybe if you weren't made so _inefficiently_ it wouldn't take so much grace just to function."

"I didn't mean…" Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. "Sorry. I just…" He paused briefly. Despite the edge to Lucifer's tone, old instincts within him still prevented him from feeling any kind of fear. No, he wasn't worried. Lucifer would never hurt him. Daringly, he shifted his eyes to meet Lucifer's gaze. "Do you really find it that bad?"

Lucifer remained silent for a few long moments, his gaze shifting downwards. "I've never been a fan of it," he eventually admitted, voice quiet. "Some angels seem to rather enjoy it. I just always found it…. difficult."

Sam opened his mouth to respond, however a perky waitress abruptly appeared beside their table, notepad poised in front of her.

"Hi there, what can I get for you guys?"

Lucifer looked away. Sam supressed a sigh, picking up his menu. "Pancakes and a latte, please."

"Sure. And you, honey?"

Sam froze, unintentionally gripping his menu so tightly the laminated card creased under his grip.

Lucifer's gaze flickered to him for the briefest second. "Black coffee. Thank you."

Sam exhaled, shoulders dropping. He handed his menu over to the waitress, gaze never wavering from Lucifer as he watched him do the same. "Thank you," he said once she had gone.

Lucifer huffed derisively. "I can play along, Sammy."

Silence reigned for a moment. Face pinched into a frown, debating with himself, as Lucifer's gaze slid to meet his. The sun lit up the small dinner through the dusty windows. Lucifer's eyes were such a clear blue in this light. Yes, this was a vessel. But there was something more there. Something in those eyes, in the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he _wore_ this body. Sam could recall feeling it under his skin, what felt like so long ago, when they had been one… He didn't know who this vessel was. Really, it didn't matter. Sam couldn't really get his mind around what he had seen in the cage, what he had tried to comprehend when he looked at Lucifer, Lucifer in his pure form. But somehow this was the same. What he saw in those eyes was- somehow- wholly Lucifer. In the strangest way, he looked human. Stranger still, he didn't. It wasn't that he acted unnaturally, or awkwardly- like other angels he had seen. It was just that somehow he could _see_ it, as if it wee written across his skin; millennias of knowledge and experience and wisdom, and a power and presence greater than he could comprehend. And it all fit in a body of flesh and bone just like his own, just like any of the people sat around them now. It made Sam feel like they weren't really that different after all. That pieces of Heaven were not really that far away.

"Why do you hate us so much?" Sam found himself asking before he could fully rack through the lengthy debate with himself over whether such questions were a good idea. "You… you're smart, Lucifer. You're not naïve. And you actually look at things. You're observant and… and _intelligent_. What do you see in us that makes you hate us so much?"

Despite his heart thudding in his chest, Lucifer did not seem angered by the question. He didn't even seem put out. Honestly, Sam swore he could have seen a flicker of appreciation in his eyes, an appreciation that Sam had actually bothered to _ask_.

"It's not that I… _hate_ humans. And I don't hate you, Sam." He paused. They both knew there was more to be said there, but that was for another time. "I just… do not understand why my Father would place humans- out of everything- in such high regard… In His _highest_ regard. The angels, we were created… perfect. We were _useful_ , we had _purpose_ , we could do all that was required of us. We had a place in the universe and we what we did we did flawlessly. And then…" Lucifer's face darkened slightly. Though he seemed to be making an effort to remain aloof, there was something in his voice that revealed that this was not easy for him to talk about. "And then he created you. And I don't understand _why_ …"

"What do you mean, 'why'?" Sam pressed softly.

Lucifer looked up at him. "What are you _for?_ " He said. "He just made you and… left you there. He gave you no instructions, no guidance, he didn't even let you know He was there. He didn't explain _why_ , and suddenly there were hundreds, _billions_ of you. And you… harmed, and destroyed, and murdered. You were so… flawed. For a while, I honestly though something that gone wrong. Why create something so… _imperfect_. And then…"

Sam waited as Lucifer paused. He bit his bottom lip anxiously.

"And then he asked all of us to bow down. To worship you. You flawed, imperfect beings. And I didn't… I _don't_ understand _why_."

That last word hung heavily in the air for several long moments. Sam felt a horrid desire, desperate almost, to answer that question. Only he had no answer.

"I don't know," he said eventually. "Maybe… maybe God didn't know either."

Lucifer studied him for a few moments, before turning away, shaking his head very slightly. "He always knows. He just refuses to let the rest of us in on the secret."


End file.
